The Medium Between
by A Small Voice
Summary: After making a bet with his best friend Wally, Dick Grayson attempts to go three months without being kidnapped. Towards the end, he is snatched as a civilian and trafficked overseas to an unknown location. As he struggles to come to grips with his situation, the Justice League and the team search for him.
1. The Bet

**Welcome to _The Medium Between_! **

**I wrote this story for Nanowrimo 2014, which finished last night. It's not done yet, but I have written 33,333 words. In other words, this will not end up like the last story I published. I plan to update at least once a week.**

**I do not own Young Justice.**

**Enjoy.**

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><p>Prologue<p>

It was a stupid bet. They both knew it when they made it, but that had not stopped them.

Not long after a particularly brutal kidnapping, Dick was in recovery at Wayne Manor when Wally came to visit. Proving that he was perfectly capable of being asterous even when incredibly injured, Dick stole Wally's goggles and painted little robins in permanent ink on the straps. Dick wanted to keep them, but Wally wanted them back. It had been Wally who proposed the bet, partly out of jest and partly out of worry for his friend's current condition.

"Fine. You can keep them if you don't get kidnapped for three months starting now."

Dick was silent for a second. "In civvies or in costume?"

"Either."

Dick pondered it for a minute during which Wally disappeared to grab some cookies, returned, and ate all said cookies except for two, which he gave to Dick. On the one hand, whether or not he got kidnapped and, thus, the bet was entirely out of his control. On the other hand, it was a relatively simple bet.

"Deal," Dick said. "But, if the majority of the team is captured as well, it doesn't count. Also, no friendly kidnappings count."

"Friendly kidnappings?" Wally asked.

"Like if you or Roy or someone kidnapped me to go somewhere fun like Six Flags, or to spend time with me. That doesn't count," Dick paused for a second, considering any other conditions to set or loopholes to close. Finding none, he questioned, "What do you want if you win?"

"The new Xbox 720!" Wally said, "And my goggles back."

"That's fair. A pair of goggles for an Xbox. That totally makes sense."

"Those are high tech goggles, and your dad's a billionaire. An Xbox is nothing." Wally crossed his arms.

"He's not my dad," Dick replied automatically.

"Deal or no deal?"

Dick huffed, "Deal. I don't get kidnapped for three months, 90 days, starting now, excluding friendly kidnappings and most of the team kidnappings, and I keep the goggles. If I do get kidnapped, you get an Xbox 720 and your goggles back."

They shook on it.

A stupid bet, one that they both blatantly hoped Dick would win.

A stupid bet, one that had a definite conclusion, which pushed the limits of that outcome to the end.

A stupid bet. Dick thought with a groan as he leaned his head back against the side of the cold, metal box when the ship tilted to the side once again. He shivered, and pulled the blanket as tight as he could around his shoulders with handcuffed hands. How did it go so wrong?


	2. Almost

**Thanks for all the favorites, follows, and reviews!**

**So, I've been around here a while. I know a lot of the comic history, especially related to Batman and Robin, and some of that will show up in here. Just a warning.**

**Funny story, I wrote "googles" instead "goggles" for the entire story, and my beta just caught it. I went back and fixed it, but yeah... I found 27 misspellings...**

**I do not own Young Justice. **

**Without Further Ado.**

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><p>Chapter 1<p>

Dick remembered when Bruce found out about the bet. The Joker had escaped from Arkham and Batman was going after him. Rumor had it that the escape had been violent with ten guards killed and six others seriously injured. It left Robin wondering how Arkham continued to be able to hire guards. Who wants a job where they are almost guaranteed injury or death whenever one of the prisoners decided to leave?

Anyhow, the violence of the escape was not what had Bruce unsettled. Rather, it was the rumor that, before escaping, the Joker spoke of the need to spear the bird. Afraid that the Joker would kill Robin on sight, Batman wanted Robin to stay home. Of course, rather than explaining this logic, he simply said, "No," when Robin came out ready to go, minus the mask.

"What? Why not?" Robin had asked.

"Because I said so."

"That's not a reason!" He shouted, indignant, "I've fought the Joker before."

"No."

"What Master Bruce truly means," Alfred interrupted before the argument could reach its crux and lead to Robin, who would invariably lose, storming away and potentially sneaking out later, and being in even more danger than if he had just gone with Batman—it had happened before. "Is that he does not want you to get hurt or kidnapped by the Joker when he is more focused on killing you instantly if he were to get his hands on you, instead of using you as bait to get Batman's attention. While the other side is also not wanted, it is more preferable than your death." He assessed.

Robin paused, and the two turned to look at the interfering butler. Alfred met Robin's gaze and raised an eyebrow. Robin looked at Alfred, looked at Batman, looked back to Alfred, and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. It was a valid argument. Besides, this was probably a situation that could make him lose the bet anyhow and he had no intention of losing. He sighed.

"Fine," Robin said, and stomped to the changing area.

"Make sure he doesn't leave, Alfred," Batman muttered once Robin was out of earshot.

"I have no intention of allowing such a thing to pass, Master Bruce," Alfred stated.

Hours later, when Batman returned from capturing the Joker with many cuts and bruises, he was surprised to learn that, not only had Robin remained home, but he did not try to leave either, not once. Instead, he had spent the night with Jason and the two had a movie marathon before going to sleep.

"It's rather odd, Master Bruce. Perhaps you should speak with him. He has been more cautious these last few weeks." Alfred said while Batman changed to Bruce. "He's in his room, pretending to sleep. I believe he was waiting for you to return."

Dick had, in fact, been faking sleep when Alfred had come up to check on him, but sometime between Alfred leaving and Batman returning, he had slipped into real slumber. When Bruce came up to check on him, he found Dick in a deep sleep, although fidgeting slightly. Bruce searched for the reason, and found that Peanut had fallen on the floor. Placing the toy in Dick's arms, the boy instantly calmed.

Bruce smiled slightly, and patted Dick gently. As he moved to get up, he noticed there was a sticky notepad next to Dick's bed with the number 63 written on top. Finding it odd, he picked up the pad and looked at the note under it. 62. He flipped through the entire thing and realized it was a countdown. A countdown to what exactly? Heart sinking, he looked at his son's peaceful face, then at the notepad before him. His face hardened. He would figure out what the countdown meant.

But first, better make sure the other little rascal was in bed.

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><p>Bruce confronted Dick the next morning, and he explained the bet with Wally and how he was counting down until it was over. Although he was relieved that the countdown was not for something sinister, Bruce called Barry to send Wally over and gave the two teens a stern talking to about making bets like that.<p>

However, he did not tell the two to call off the bet. Instead, he cashed in with Dick. If Dick won, he said, he would buy Wally a new pair of goggles to replace the ones Dick would keep. They knew he wanted Dick to win as much as anyone else. Bruce felt that the second the bet was off, Dick would start taking more risks again. He didn't want to argue with his son about missions that he felt were too dangerous, and the bet provided the perfect excuse.

Bruce wondered if he could get them to extend it. Six months without a kidnapping would be nice. Maybe a year would be a good amount of time for the bet. Longer worked, too.

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><p>The last day of the bet was a Thursday. School was out for the day, and Dick and Artemis—she still didn't know he was Robin—were heading over to Artemis's house for a tutoring session. While Dick was a year below Artemis in school, they were in the same Calculus class due to Dick's genius and mathlete status. Artemis wasn't doing too hot, as Calculus was her worst subject, so the teacher had suggested a tutor. That tutor was Dick, who enjoyed their sessions for the amount of trolling he was able to get in. Honestly, he was kind of surprised that Artemis hadn't figured it out yet. He wasn't that discreet. Hmm… Guess Bruce was right with his secret identity tips after all.<p>

Dick couldn't wait to see Artemis's face when she figured it out. He predicted it would be somewhere between indignation, outrage, and shock. There was another bet about that. Both he and Wally thought she would figure it out on her own; there were ample opportunities and hints, and they knew she couldn't remain oblivious forever, no matter what Bruce wanted.

Dick had predicted she'd insult him, something along the lines of "you little troll!" Wally thought she'd be so far in shock she wouldn't know what to say, would probably wait a few days to be sure, before quietly hinting to Dick that she knew by using a Robin reference. Roy personally believed she'd never figure it out, but he cashed in on the bet anyways, saying she would need to be told and would be more upset by the fact that Bruce Wayne was Batman.

Dick walked with a spring in his step, while fingering the goggles he was hiding in his pocket. He and Wally had decided the week before that the bet would end at 5:23 pm today because that was the time at which it had been made. He checked his watch again. 5:11. 12 minutes to go. He had made it. Three months with no kidnappings. Wally joked that it was a new record. Although…. there had been a couple close calls as Robin, but he had played it safe and avoided situations that almost guaranteed a kidnapping.

Dick and Wally were planning to go celebrate after the tutoring session. Flash and Batman had oh so graciously given the two boys the night as well as the next day off, and the two were planning to go to an ice cream parlor, eat to their heart's content (with Bruce's credit card), while Dick gloated by showing off the goggles. Bruce had already ordered Wally's new ones. They'd arrive in a couple weeks.

After filling up on ice cream, they would return to the manor and have a movie marathon with Jason, popcorn, and Alfred's cookies. On Friday, Roy was coming over and taking the two to Six Flags, also on Bruce's money. He'd already bought the tickets.

How Dick had managed to convince Bruce to allow and pay for all this was anyone's guess. Truthfully, he had merely applied puppy dog eyes, promised to stay out of trouble, reminded Bruce that Roy was an official Justice League member and Wally had super speed, and promised to wear a pair of goggles—sunglasses would fall off—but they didn't need to know that. The mystery was worth the trouble.

At 5:20 pm, three minutes to go, the two teenagers took a shortcut through an alley. Artemis was prattling on about school and teachers and how the other students, but not him of course, were so rich and stuck up. Dick was so distracted by excitement for the evening and next day and Artemis's rant that by the time he realized that the hairs sticking up on the back of his neck were not his imagination and his Robin senses were tingling, they were already cut off and trapped. Dick only just managed to dodge the first blow to the back of his head, one that would have easily knocked him unconscious.

Dick saw four men, buff and strong. The two teenagers immediately sprang into action, Dick made sure to pare down his fighting and to not fight like he'd been fighting beside Artemis for months, which he had, so as to not lead to the conclusion of him being Robin by the wrong people. Even though he trusted Artemis, he did not trust these new men to not put two and two together. It would be suspicious if a puny rich kid could knock out two men twice his size.

Each took two men. Dick focused on his fight, trusting Artemis to handle herself. He wasn't winning, but he was holding his own. He never saw the fifth man, but Artemis did.

"Richard! Look out!" She shouted.

BAM!

Dick swayed on his feet as his vision tunneled. Through the clouds of consciousness, he felt someone pin his arms to his sides and lift him so that his feet dangled. Voices echoed, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. Loosely, he found himself glancing down at his watch. The red numbers blared out a blurry 5:25. He felt a pinch in his arm, and then the world faded to nothing.

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><p><strong>Please review!<strong>


	3. The Crime Discovered

**Disclaimer: I do not work at Cartoon Network, so I do not have any claim to Young Justice.**

TMB Chapter 2

"-temis? … hear me?... rtemis…wake up… Artemis! "

Artemis groaned and opened her eyes, then immediately shut them as dim light rushed into them. She slowly reopened them to a slit to take in a hovering red shape above her. Blinking a few times, the shape sharpened into her concerned boyfriend, Wally. What was Wally doing here? There were other shapes behind him… red and blue flashing lights? What had happened? What was going on?

"Miss, are you alright?" a voice to her right asked.

"Hmm… Yeah," she answered blearily, and swiveled her head to take in a police officer. Deciding he was no threat, she looked back at Wally. "Baywatch. Whatcha doin' here? Wha' happen?"

"Have you been drugged?" Wally asked, squinting at her.

"No. Drugser bad." Artemis shook her head to clear it of the fog.

"Can you sit her up? I'm going to check her for concussion." The police officer said to Wally. He did so. The police officer shined a light in her eyes, causing her to wince. "Miss, can you answer some simple questions?"

"Yessss. I mean, yes. Yeah." Artemis shook her head again, but Wally shot a hand out and stopped her. "Sorry."

"What's your name?"

"Artemis Crock."

"Age?"

"15"

"What's the date?"

"November 8, 2012"

"What is the last thing you remember?"

"Last thing I remember?" Artemis was silent for a second, thinking. What was the last thing she could remember? She had gone to school, left school. That annoying freshman came with her for a tutoring session in Calculus. He was grinning about something, but wouldn't tell her what…. Wait a second, freshman? "Richard. Where's Richard? He was with me, I think."

The police officer froze, surprised. "Richard? Richard who?" Artemis looked at Wally. He was vibrating slightly, but didn't look surprised nor jealous that she had been with another guy—had she told him about tutoring?—just worried. Confused, Artemis turned back to the police officer, and attempted to struggle to her feet.

"Richard Grayson. He's about this tall," she demonstrated, "tan, skinny, black hair, blue eyes. I'm pretty sure he was with me. He was supposed to tutor me in math today."

The police officer cursed, and looked back at his partner who was observing the surroundings. "There's another bag, but you're the only one we found, Mi—"

"Do you remember anything after leaving school? Did you make it home? What time was it? Where did he go? Why didn't you call for help? Did you now have time? What happened? Are you hurt? Was he hurt? How many people attacked you? Did you get any of them? What did they look like? Were they masked?"

"Baywatch. Baywatch!" He paused. "Shut up. Officer, to answer some of his questions, I remember being on the way to my house. Richard seemed happy about something, but wouldn't tell me what. We turned into an alley." She looked up and around. "I guess this one, and it's kind of fuzzy past that point. I remember there being figures… in black maybe? I think they were masked because I don't remember faces. What… what happened? Where's Richard?"

"I think he was kidnapped." Wally stated solemnly.

"What?!"

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><p>The sun was coming up, Wally noted, rubbing at his tired eyes. It had been more than 12 hours since Dick's disappearance and more than 11 since Wally's discovery of Artemis in the alley. He had wondered why Dick wasn't activating the celebration chimes that he'd set up for the end of the bet. When all phone calls went to voicemail, he had gone to investigate, piggybacking off Bruce's tracer (God forbid Bruce find out about that), and found Artemis lying there unconscious with their stuff strewn all over the alleyway.<p>

They were in Wayne Manor now sitting on the couch in the living room. Artemis had checked out with the paramedics as having a mild concussion. They also determined that she had been given a mild sedative, similar to the kind that is typically given to Wisdom Teeth patients, in order to knock her out and disorient her. She had a black eye and bruises on her knuckles, indicating that a fight had taken place. She was currently passed out on Wally's shoulder.

Several officers were milling around. They had set up equipment to track any calls that came in, and had already sent out an Amber Alert. Bruce had disappeared a few hours ago. He had told the officers that he was going to search through his mail in the study for any recent threats. Wally was sure he had probably done that already. Bruce was very careful when threats came in, especially when Dick or Jason were involved, and made sure both boys knew who to look out for. Nah, Bruce was probably setting up a search and trace on the batcomputer for any sign of Dick.

Wally sighed. This was not how his night was supposed to go. The two boys had planned a trip to a nearby café, then a movie marathon complete with junk food… well Alfred's cooking, which wasn't exactly junk but definitely sweets. They were planning to blast music and play video games as well until Jason would inevitably stomp in and yell at them to turn it down because he had to go to school tomorrow even if they didn't.

There were still desserts, but they were served by a solemn Alfred and offered to tired officers and depressed, worried teens, rather than two rambunctious teenagers who didn't really need any more sugar. The sweets lacked their usual luster as the night went on and the ones that Alfred had originally prepared were exhausted. Jason had disappeared to bed hours ago at Bruce's demand, and a female police officer named Montaina, Montanyo, Montoya, something like that had followed for Jason's protection. Neither had the energy to argue. He wasn't going to school tomorrow.

Wally dimly wondered if Artemis had figured out he wasn't actually here for her, but rather for Dick. She probably thought he was just hanging around to be an awesome boyfriend in her time of need. That would be the logical conclusion. If that was her assumption, he had no will to correct it. Bruce might kill him if he did; Bruce was certainly wound up enough.

In the corner of his conscious, Wally heard the sound of the front door opening and keys jingling. A police officer moved to the front door to greet the new arrival. Shift change? Was it time for one? Almost no one outside the batfamily had keys to the manor. Clark- because Bruce was sick of him using laser vision to unlock the door-, Wally, Roy, and maybe Gordon were the sum total. Voices echoed in the front hall, but Wally didn't even bother to try to sort them out.

There was the sound of running feet and then Roy Harper burst into the living room. He scanned the scene, taking in the police officers, who had turned to him in surprise, the tracking equipment, and the two human lumps on the couch, one of who was starting to stir from sleep, the other who was staring solemnly at a half eaten plate of food. Roy opened his mouth to ask what happened, but then closed it again. What happened was fairly obvious, given the location and general mood. He tried to ask what Artemis was doing here, but decided he didn't really want to know at this moment at time. Roy made a strangled sound deep in his throat, moved over to the couch and plopped down next to Wally, putting his head in his hands.

At this point, Bruce emerged from his study. The circles under his eyes spoke to his lack of rest the night past. He gave a small start when he saw Roy, then nodded to him. "Anything?" he begged of the police officers.

"Nothing, Mr. Wayne. Sorry, sir. Anything in the mail?"

"No. Nothing." Bruce sat down in the armchair that Jason had occupied earlier that night, and rubbed his eyes. "Why nothing? It's been over twelve hours. It's morning. Shouldn't they have called by now?"

"Typically, yes." Gordon said, entering the room. "However, I'm beginning to think this is not your normal kidnapping case."

That caught Wally's attention. "What? What do you mean this isn't a normal kidnapping?" He spoke before Bruce could, prompting a warning look from Bruce and a nudge from Roy.

"The profile is in keeping with a recent string of abductions in Gotham and, as I've learned, around the world. I was planning on bringing Batman in on it last night, but he didn't show." Bruce instantly grabbed the folder from the commissioner's arms. Batman had been a little busy last night, but might have appreciated this lead. "Three to five armed men attacking in an alleyway near dusk. Three of the six victims match Dick's description. The victims were all with at least one other person, who was given a sedative and left behind as a witness." The Commissioner had the rapt attention of both the redheads, Bruce, who was flipping through the file about his son, and Alfred now, as well as a couple of the officers.

"Why weren't we informed of this immediately?" Bruce asked, switching into business mode, with a slight growl.

"I wasn't sure of it. I'm still not sure of it, but there's been no ransom call, like the other cases, and the possibility seems more and more likely by the minute."

"Give me everything you have on the case." Bruce said, looking up from Dick's file.

"I can't just give that out to civilians. I assure you that we're searching for your son. I just doubled the task force on the kidnapping case in Gotham, and I've contacted other cities to get the Justice League involved, if it's as widespread as we fear."

Bruce clenched his hands, wishing he had gone out the night before, despite the fact he was needed at home.

"I'm as worried about Dick as you are, Bruce." Gordon said, softly. "I may be wrong. This could be an independent case, in which case you need to wait here for a ransom call."

"Which might not come?"

"We have to hope, Bruce. We will find him."

"I need to go check on the teams." He nodded to two police officers, who stayed. He, and the rest of the officers, began to leave. Gordon paused by the door and turned back, "Bruce, keep Jason close for the next few days. If I'm correct in who this group is targeting, they don't need both boys." Bruce nodded. Gordon left Bruce standing in the living room clenching his fists, two shocked red heads, and a still sleeping blond.

"What happened?" A small voice asked a few minutes later. Jason, wearing a too big shirt of Dick's and pajama pants, stood in the doorway looking at the older people inside.

**A/N**

**HAPPY FINALS WEEK and may the odds be ever in your favor.**

**Did anyone see this week's Flash episode?**

**Thanks for the Reviews, Favorites, and Follows!**

**Sorry, no Dick in this chapter, but he has a nice, long chapter coming up.**

**The reason I'm so specific about the anesthetic is because when I got my Wisdom Teeth out, I woke up in the middle of the surgery. Yeah, that traumatizing nightmare. Anyhow, the doctor told us later that the anesthetic they gave me didn't actually knock me out completely, just disoriented and immobilized me for a while. Thanks Doc. I truly needed that experience. -.-**

**Next chapter should be out by the end of the week. It was one of my favorites to write.**

**Review, Please!**


	4. Introduction of the Dingbats

**So, as I mentioned last chapter, this was one of my favorite chapters to write. I hope you enjoy it.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice. If I had enough funds to buy Young Justice, I'd probably use the money for college.**

Chapter 3

The first thing Dick registered when he woke up was that he was not under a blanket. The next thing he registered was that Peanut was missing. Finally, he realized that he was not laying on the soft, heavenly surface of his rather large bed or the less heavenly, but still soft beds at either the Cave or Wally's house. In fact, he didn't seem to be on a bed at all. Dick clamped down on his groan so as to not inform the kidnappers, because he was sure he had been kidnapped, of his wakefulness. Groggily, the boy kept the position that he woke up in and tried to get a taste of his surroundings.

The air smelled rather musty, but no scents came immediately to mind. He focused, and made out a thin oil smell, and maybe hay? No, not dry enough. Wheat flour? Yeah, maybe that. So, maybe he was in a restaurant backroom? He could work with that, but… the sounds weren't right. There was a loud, constant humming sound, and crunching gravel, then a whooshing sound, and back to the crunching gravel, kind of like a highway. He could also hear muffled country music and voices. There was a large bump and Dick was thrown upwards, hitting what felt like hollow metal.

Ok. That confirmed it. He was in a car, probably the trunk if his analysis was correct. It certainly didn't feel like a cushioned seat. Deciding that the likelihood of someone else being in the trunk with him was zero to none, Dick slowly forced his eyes open… to meet utter darkness. He blinked a few times to see if that would help, but there was no improvement and he noticed that his eyelashes seemed to be brushing against something. He figured that he probably had a blindfold on. He could confirm or reject that theory later, but it seemed solid to him.

Dick moved to assess his other body parts. His wrists were bound firmly behind his back with very little give. The rope was itchy, and hurt when he moved his wrists, so he let it be. Further investigation revealed that his ankles were tied with the same rope, albeit less firmly. He moved to lick his lips and found similar rope blocking his mouth. Great, bound, blindfolded, _and _gagged. Just his luck. This sucked.

Dick thought back to that morning. He and Wally had talked on the phone before school, and agreed to call when the bet was over, mostly so Dick could gloat. They knew Artemis would be so confused, but Dick personally didn't care. She could be confused. He truly believed he would win. He wondered whether he or Wally had actually won. The bet was over at 5:23, but he was in the middle of a fight that ended with a kidnapping at that point. Huh. They'd have to call it a draw, when he got back. Wally probably knew he was missing by now.

Dick wondered what the ransom would be this time. They had been getting more and more ridiculous lately, but Bruce often had a way of retrieving the money and throwing the kidnappers in jail in the past. Maybe these guys would be modest. The media never reported the amounts of ransom, choosing to ignore that number, so as to not piss off Bruce Wayne by seemingly challenging the kidnappers. His last ransom had been $5 million, and the kidnappers, both men and women, had not hesitated to beat the shit out of him. He came home with five broken bones, three cracked bones, a shattered pointer finger, and too many cuts and bruises to count. Those men—and women—were now spending time at Arkham, in a nice cell right next to the Joker. Bruce didn't mess around.

The car passed over another bump, and then another and another, and slowed to a stop. Dick steadied his breathing and closed his eyes. He figured he could go along with the kidnappers until he was outside and then kick them in the face, get the blindfold off, and run for it. Car doors slammed, but no one came around to the trunk. In fact, the footsteps were fading away. A bunch of voices got louder and then faded like a door had been opened and closed. There was silence around Dick. He waited patiently, but no one came. He furrowed his eyebrows and listened hard.

Yep, nothing.

Dick decided to take advantage of the lack of kidnappers and attempt to get out. Moving carefully, he maneuvered his hands over his legs and in front of him. It hurt slightly, but worked. His hands immediately moved to the blindfold. After tugging and pulling on the duct tape, he was able to get it off enough to see slightly, but was unable to get it completely off. They had done an unusually good job of taping it on. Seriously, he though, they might have even done as well as the psycho kidnapping of '08. That blindfold took Superman's laser vision to get completely off. Did these people want him to be blind for life?

He used what little sight he had and started searching for a switch to open the trunk. There was often at least one in old cars, and the trunk didn't feel very big. As he searched, he made sure to make plenty of noise in case someone who was not his kidnappers was walking by.

Dick smiled around his gag when his hand lit upon an inlet, but then stopped smiling when he realized that the hole was where a button to open the trunk used to be, not where one currently was. He shifted getting closer, leaning against the trunk roof, in order to get a better grip. No good. He tugged, and pulled, and pushed, but nothing happened to the trunk. It was stuck. Dick imagined it was so stuck that it would take a crowbar to open the trunk. That wasn't encouraging.

Dick took as deep a breath as he could and gave up trying to open the trunk. He decided that he would prepare to run when the trunk was, in fact, opened. He pulled his ankles close to his wrists and started working the ropes off. The tightness of the ropes around his wrists increased the difficulty of the task by preventing his fingers from being too nimble, but he managed to get the job done. Ankles unbound, Dick waited. Occasionally thumped the trunk loudly. And waited, Eventually, he fell into a light doze.

Several hours later, footsteps returned to the car. The doors opened, and slammed shut, causing Dick to jerk awake. To his disappointment, the car began to inch forward, turned a few times, and moved onto, based on the sound he could hear from the ground, the on ramp for the freeway. The tires churned gravel and concrete and the car shot forward with an acceleration so fast that it caused Dick to bang against the back of the trunk.

He led loose a moan, but no one gave any indication that they heard him.

16,692 seconds later, the car pulled off the highway, and onto a dirt road. Dick bumped around even more in the trunk as they moved over the uneven surface. If the trunk hadn't been slightly padded, as Dick had discovered around 3,456 seconds, he would have had a multitude of bruises. By the time the car pulled to a stop, Dick was more than ready for the world to stop shaking. He prepared himself to make a run for it, although he worried that they had driven too far from civilization for him to reach help.

It wouldn't have been the first time, but he had great survival skills because of that first time it happened. After being stuck in the woods for a couple days, and almost dying from an infection and poison berries that Bruce luckily managed to stop him from eating, Batman decreed that both Robin and Robin, Jr (as Wally had dubbed Jason) would have an intensive wilderness survival lesson with everything from no supplies but those that nature provided to everything they should have with them at all times. When Flash heard about it, it took him all of five seconds to decide that, no matter what Batman said, Kid Flash was going too. Speedy, for he was Speedy then not Red Arrow, also joined. He'd grown up on a Native American Reserve, so he knew a lot about wilderness survival, but he could still learn more and teach his little brothers.

Footsteps approached the back of the car and Dick coiled his body to spring out the second a sizeable gap appeared. He heard a metal tool being lifted—huh, he was right. They did need a crowbar—and the trunk cracked open. Dick leapt into action. He head butted the man directly in front of him and spun around. Quickly taking in his surroundings, he headed for the woods, wincing once from his lack of shoes or socks.

Running full sprint with partial visual coverage, he didn't register the arm that swung out until it was too late. He crashed directly into it, and cursed the KF rashness that had led him to believe this was a good plan. He scrambled to his feet, to get up and run again, but a pair of hands grabbed him around the middle and clenched his arms, pulling him from the ground and ignoring his struggles as he screamed for help through the gag. How did he forget to take that off? A silent figure, the one who must have hit him, moved forward from the tree line. He was wearing a mask. Dick decided to call him Dingbat 1.

"Shut up, brat." A voice, who Dick decided would be Dingbat 2, said behind him. Dick increased his struggling and wails, but someone, Dingbat 3 because Dingbat 2 hadn't let go of him and Dingbat 1 was still in front of him, hit him the back of the head. He quieted at the hit, but continued to struggle a second later.

"Don't we have sedatives?" Dingbat 2 growled with a grunt after Dick managed to land an elbow blow on him.

"We do, but we need him awake for the ransom call."

"We need him alive, not awake." Dick stilled his struggles. If there was going to be a ransom call, there was a chance to tell Bruce where he was. He needed to be awake to do that. "Hmm. That got his attention. Shut up and don't move, brat, or you won't be able to say hi to Daddy."

The Dingbats moved inside a damp, dark shack and set Dick down into a chair with arm rests. Dingbat 3 grabbed Dick's forearms firmly, holding them level with his face as Dingbat 2 let go of him. Dingbat 2 removed the rope from Dick's wrists, to his relief.

Before Dick could do anything to help himself, Dingbat 3 slammed his arms onto the armrest and pushed down on them so hard that Dick was sure it would bruise. Dick reciprocated by kicking Dingbat 3 in a very tender area. Dingbat 3 gave an unmanly yelp and loosened his grip a small bit in reaction to the pain. Not enough for Dick to get out of the grip, but enough to make him feel better. A second later, Dingbat 3 recovered and squeezed his arms harder than before. Heh. At least he tried. Dingbat 2 rebound Dick's wrists firmly, and then tied a rope around his waist and another around his ankles. Meanwhile, Dingbat 1 was setting up a camera.

As the ropes were bound around, Dick noticed something… his clothes were missing. Well, not all his clothes—he still had his boxers and there was something resting on his head—but his school uniform, socks, shoes, and watch were gone. Goosebumps abounded on his arms as wind roared against the side of the shack. He supposed that meant that his belt was gone too. He just hoped that no one had seen it when they took his clothes off. It was hidden in a secret pouch, but they could still potentially find it.

"He took part of the blindfold off. Should I take it off and put a new one on, or just add to the one we have?" Dingbat… 2, he thought, asked. They had shifted. Still hadn't gotten the voices straight with the faces. The blindfold covering part of his vision didn't help. As if that wasn't enough, they kept moving. The Dingbats were too unstill. It was annoying.

"Take it off. We're all wearing masks, and Daddy might want to see baby brat's eyes." If the other one was Dingbat 2, then this one was Dingbat 3 talking. Dingbat 1, the guy who had yet to speak, grunted in agreement. So he _could_ make sound. "Be careful though. Don't rip his hair out." Dick closed his eyes as Dingbat 2 carefully removed the rest of the blindfold from Dick's eyes. When it was fully removed, he opened them and blinked a few times to sharpen his vision, and then carefully took in his surroundings in greater detail.

All three men were clad in dark clothing and combat boots with a ski mask covering their entire head except their eyes. The lighting in the shack was dim, so Dick had trouble making out any specifics like eye color or loose hair color. It didn't help that the men were purposefully avoiding his eyes. Dingbat 1 was the shortest, and judging by lack of bulk, seemed to have the least muscle mass. Dingbat 2 and 3 looked almost identical with similar builds and heights. They were off by maybe an inch. That didn't help in telling them apart visually.

The camera, which Dingbat 1 was setting up, was a small, handheld video camera, ancient by today's standards, but able to do the job. Dick's heart sank as he realized that the video camera was the kind that filmed to a tape, rather than filmed live. He wouldn't be able to talk to Bruce. More accurately, Dick thought as he remembered the gag cutting into his lips, Bruce wouldn't be able to speak with him. Dick might not have been able to speak to him anyways, but it would have felt good to hear Bruce's voice.

Dick tore his eyes from the video camera when the Dingbats, appropriate name, he decided, because of the black clothing, moved to aid with the set up. Seeing no immediate danger, Dick observed the rest of the room. The shack was average sized for a shack. It was dark and damp, as he already mentioned. He could faintly see a pull chain for a light bulb that the men were currently in favor of ignoring. The walls were made of folded metal. There was little in the room besides Dick and his chair, the camera, and the Dingbats, but Dick could see some rusted garden tools in the corner of the shack. Those would come in handy in another escape attempt. So would the chair. Although, he kicked experimentally at the leg and the chair didn't budge; there wasn't any give. The chair might be bolted down. He leaned forward as much as he could, mindful of his bindings. It was pretty far, all things considered. He looked down at the legs of the chair and saw bolts nailed into the floor. So much for using the chair.

"Hey!" Dingbat 3 called, glancing back at Dick and seeing that he was pretty far from the position they wanted him in. Dick's head popped up as Dingbat 3 took a step towards Dick (that's how small the space was), grabbed Dick's shoulders, and slammed him back into position. Dick gave a little squeak at the sudden move.

"Give me more rope," he demanded, keeping one hand on Dick and holding the other behind him for the rope. Dingbat 2 put a long length of rope into Dingbat 3's free hand, and Dingbat 3 set to work binding Dick's chest and back to the chair back. Dick held his breath to loosen the ropes, like he had seen a horse do once. Also knowing the trick, Dingbat 3 punched Dick in the stomach, causing him to lose his breath. Dingbat 3 pulled the rope tight, and then let go and admired his handiwork. "Try to move around that, brat," he muttered loud enough for Dick to hear. Dick wisely decided not to test it.

Dingbat 3 seemed to think of something, and then grabbed two small black mittens with the thumb tied off. He forced Dick to ball up his hands, then pulled the mittens, which were actually kids' mittens and too small, on. There was a drawstring on the side. Dingbat 3 pulled it tight and locked it into place. He checked the tautness of the ropes for any give. Not finding any, he sent a look towards his peers.

"We're ready." Dingbat 2 stated, answering the unspoken question. Dick tensed, eyes switching between the men in front of him. Dingbat 3 pulled the drawstring, and light flooded the room. The camera clicked on.

**A/N**

**Aaaaaannnddd Scene! Please Review. Flames will be used to make s'mores and all comments will be used to improve future chapters.**

**For those who are curious, 16,692 seconds is** 4 hours, 38 minutes, and 12 seconds. I originally put 300,692 seconds, but then I realized that that's at least three and a half days… They would have stopped for the night again long before that and no one can count for that long without falling asleep, or getting incredibly bored and stopping. The first time the car stopped, they were stopping for the night at a inn off the highway. It was about 1 am, but there were still people up because the inn was connected to a Tavern... Yeah, I put way too much thought into this. They left the inn around 5 or 6 am. Dick didn't actually have a chance to get someone's attention because they parked pretty far away and people can dismiss thumps as their imagination at that time of night/morning.****

****I'm considering writing a short story about the Psycho Kidnapping of '08, but that won't come for a long time if I do write it.****

****I've had a couple questions about the picture for this story. I was looking through my photos for a suitable one, and happened upon a photo of a sock that I decorated last year. I put it up because of this chapter. It will change when I come up with a good design and get to a point in the story where it will make sense.****

****I got into College! :)****

****The next chapter will be out around New Year's. I'm not going to be near my computer for a week starting Friday, and I'm not satisfied with the next chapter yet. Don't let that stop you from reviewing! Happy Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanzaa, New Year's, Winter Break, whatever you celebrate! :)****


	5. Package Received

**I do not own Young Justice**

Chapter 4

The box came Tuesday afternoon, five days after Dick was snatched. The delivery boy brought it to Wayne Tech and a secretary signed off for it. She scanned it to make sure there was nothing dangerous. Not finding anything alarming, she brought it upstairs to Bruce and Jason, who Bruce hadn't allowed to leave his side outside of the manor since Friday morning. Bruce didn't even leave Jason alone with Alfred if they were outside the manor. That's how terrified he was to lose his second son to the terrorists who the police were convinced had taken his eldest. Nodding to the policeman standing guard outside the door, she entered.

"Expecting a package, Mr. Wayne?" She questioned.

"No," Bruce said rising out of his chair. Jason looked up from the corner, where he was doing homework from school. It was make-up work really, as Bruce was too afraid of letting Jason out of his sight to let him go to school. Artemis had dropped off the work when she stopped by to get an update on the situation. "Who is it from?"

"I don't know. There was no return address, but the scans didn't pick up anything dangerous." She bit her lip. Personally, she thought it may be from the kidnappers, but she did not want to bring up the possibility only for him to find out that it was not and then be crushed. The man was losing enough sleep as it was.

Even so, it seemed that Bruce was well aware of the possibility, no, likelihood, that the package was from the people who took his kid. He took the package with trembling hands and set it down on his desk. Jason got up and came over to look as well. The two stared at the package for a moment, and then exchanged looks. Finally, Bruce looked up at the secretary and said, "You can go."

She left, although her curiosity was sparked. This was not a moment for her to intrude upon.

Back in the office, Jason and Bruce were staring at the package as if it waiting for it to explode. Well, Bruce was. Jason was alternating between staring at the package and looking up at his father to see if he was going to open it. After five minutes of this, Jason burst out, "Well, if you're not to open it, I am!" He grabbed the package and a letter opener from Bruce's desk and cut open the package labels. He then opened the box.

Inside, wrapped in wrapping paper as if they were a present, were Dick's clothes. They were neatly folded. Knowing this was probably against police procedure but needing to do it anyways, Bruce reached into the box, shaking, and pulled out his son's blazer. He reached into the inner, hidden pocket, and found Dick's utility belt. He breathed a sigh of relief. That was one weight off his chest, and it didn't feel as if the inner pocket had been messed with at all. Bruce hid the belt in the Batman drawer. He didn't want the police seeing it.

There was blood on Dick's white uniform shirt, which was much less of a relief. Not much, but enough to make a point. It looked like it had been made from a deep cut on his arm, based on the splatter pattern and the slice in the sleeve. Someone had drawn a skull face on the shirt, in Dick's blood, with gloves. Jason shivered and looked away as Bruce removed the shirt.

Underneath the shirt was a black VCR tape, old fashioned and slightly dented in places, but useable. There was a beeper as well. Bruce paled a little, but felt slightly relieved as this was looking less and less like a terrorist case as he continued to remove things. He handed the tape to Jason, who was still staring at the shirt with trepidation. Bruce gently raised Jason's chin to meet his eyes, and gave him a meaningful Batlook. Jason snapped out of it and raced to the closet to try to find an old VCR player.

His younger son no longer watching, he continued to pull items out of the box. Dick's pants were in reasonably good condition, with only a small bit of dirt at the knees, as if he had tripped and scrambled back up. Dick had probably been keeping up the helpless rich kid act that Bruce regretted ever insisting on. Dick's shoes had a few more scuffs than usual, but, like most shoes, held no evidence of a fight. His socks were balled up inside each shoe.

Dick's watch, normal belt, and tie sat at the bottom of the box, as well as several crushed trackers. Bruce suspected that the trackers had been crushed immediately, given that he had been unable to find any signal, but the other objects may have been placed in after the ransom video, as Bruce hoped that was what the VCR tape was, had been made.

The only things missing, besides Dick himself, were Dick's boxers and Kid Flash's goggles. According to Kid Flash, the two teens had determined Dick would take the goggles to school that day so that he could gloat from the second he saw Kid Flash to when Kid Flash left on Saturday, and likely a little bit afterwards.

Bruce sighed, as Jason returned with an old, usable, VCR player.

"Tell the police officer. I'll call Alfred." Jason nodded, and ran to the door as Bruce picked up the phone and dialed Alfred. The phone rang only one and a half times before the line picked up.

"Alfred. I think we just received a ransom video."

Zantanna lay on the couch with her knees bent over the arm rest, staring at her phone. She called Robin 20 times in the last week and left 5 voicemails, but he had not called back. She also sent him at least 50 texts asking where he was, but he had not replied. There was the possibility that he misplaced or lost his phone, but he had not answered her hails on the Justice League communicators either when she turned to that. Plus, Robin would never have gone this long without his phone, at least without visiting the Mountain.

Maybe Robin was grounded. That would also explain why he wasn't answering emails. However, that did not explain why Artemis and Wally had only been to the cave once in the last week, and just to pop in to use the equipment. Artemis said that she, Wally, and Red Arrow were on a special mission in Gotham. When Zantanna asked, Artemis was surprised that Robin had not been by the Mountain, especially since he had not joined in their mission, even though it was his city. She was even more surprised that he had not answered any messages. It wasn't like him. She said she'd ask Batman about it.

Wally, however. Wally stiffened at the mention of Robin, wouldn't meet Zantanna's eyes, and rushed off when she asked him about it. Artemis stared after him, and then told Zantanna she'd find out what was up with him as well. Then, Artemis left, following after Wally with furrowed eyebrow as if attempting to figure something out.

Black Canary also wouldn't meet Zantanna's eyes when she asked about Robin. Thankfully, Black Canary, at least, composed herself and gave Zantanna an answer. She said that Robin was on a secret, undercover mission for Batman and should be back soon. Batman hadn't given him much warning, which was why Wally was so upset. Most of the other league members said something similar, although they sounded slightly unsure.

This brought Zantanna back to her current situation. Trying to contact the MIA boy wonder, or at least get an answer from his best friend, Wally, who would be coming by soon. She could tell something was wrong and a knot of worry that had wedged its way in earlier that week not long after Wally, Artemis, and Robin had not joined them at Six Flags refused to budge.

Conner sat on the other side of the couch, watching the static. He cast a worried glance towards Zantanna. He, M'gann, and Kaldur were slightly worried as well, but they understood that the League, well, mostly Batman, would likely keep anything that happened to Robin in his civilian life a secret as long as they could. They were able to stay traught, unlike the distraught Zantanna. Conner hoped Robin would return soon. It was unlike him to go radio silent without letting them know, and he needed to come make Zantanna feel better. She was too mopey.

"**Recognized: Kid Flash B03, Artemis B07, Batman 02, Red Arrow B06."**

"Team, report to the mission room."

**A/N**

**HAPPY NEW YEAR!**

**Enjoy this new, but unfortunately kind of short chapter. I'm back! With Internet! **


	6. In Which Dick Is Hungry

**A/N Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice**

**Voila. Le ransom.**

**Alexandria-likethecityinEgypt suggested that I use numbers when talking about the individual Dingbats instead of saying "Dingbat 1." Let me know which way you like better, please.**

Chapter 5

Bruce had the VCR set up with his office TV and was fiddling with Dick's watch, by the time Alfred and Commissioner Gordon, as well as a few officers arrived. Wally had arrived one minute ago, with Artemis in tow so as to not look suspicious. He was pacing. Jason had texted him the news. Bruce looked up as they walked in, put the watch down with the rest of Dick's stuff, and grabbed a hold of Jason's shoulder.

"A VCR tape?" the Commissioner asked. Bruce nodded in response.

"Ok. Play." He said, and the officer who'd initially been guarding the office pushed the play button.

The video opened, with shaky graphics, on Dick. Bruce sucked in a breath at his son's condition. He was firmly bound to a metal chair around the wrists, ankles, waist, and chest, and gagged as well. There were bruises on his arms and beginning to form near his wrists, as well as one on his right cheek. His clothes had already been removed in the picture, and he was shivering in only his boxers, and some weird black material that was hiding his hands, almost like mittens. Kid Flash's bright red goggles were sitting atop his head, for some reason, causing Wally to suck in a breath. Artemis recognized them as well.

"Hey, why does he have your goggles? I thought that you know who had them." Bruce shot Wally a look that clearly said "Watch yourself."

"Uh, they're probably just similar goggles. Or something to screw with us." He indicated with his eyes to the police in the room, who had paused the video, and were observing the exchange between the teens. "Continue." Commissioner Gordon raised an eyebrow, feeling that they were hiding something, but nodded to the officer to do so.

A man in dark clothing with a thick, black ski mask moved behind Dick. The boy attempted to keep him in his sight, leading to him rolling his eyes up and leaning his head back when the man stood directly behind him. The man grabbed his head, and forced him to face forward, towards the camera. Keeping one hand in the boy's hair, the man pulled a knife from his pocket and started fiddling with it, leering at the camera.

"Hello, Mr. Wayne. A pleasure to speak to you, as always. I'm sure you've noticed by now that your delightful son has been missing for a while. Don't worry," the man leaned forward and wrapped an arm around Dick's waist. "He's in excellent hands, if I do say so myself." The boy was frozen, his teeth clenched and his eyes caught between disdain, anger, and a tiny bit of fear, which you could only see if you knew him really well. So, basically, Wally, Alfred, and Bruce could see it at that moment. Bruce's fingernails were starting to cut into his skin. He glared at the screen hard enough that if he were Superman, it would have exploded by now. The man on the screen started to pet Dick's hair.

"However, if you want to see little Richard again, you'll need to do a teensy favor for me."

"Anything." Bruce hissed, despite knowing that the man definitely could not hear him.

"I'll need three million untraceable US dollars wired to the account numbered CH76 0344 2012 6573 2020 97 by Thursday midnight. Feel free to pay it sooner. When I have asserted that the correct amount has been placed in the account and it has been transferred without trace, I will disclose your son's current location to you, and no sooner. Don't bring any police with you to the pick-up site, or I will shoot him. If you or he pisses me off, I will take my time. If not, you'll be able to ride to his rescue maybe six hours after I receive the funds."

Dick looked horrified at the idea that he would have to spend at least a week with these psychos. His eye flicked back and forth between two spots in front of him and, almost pointedly, straight ahead at the camera. His fingers appeared to be moving inside the dark sac, but not enough that they could make out any signals.

The man gently splayed a hand over the back of Dick's head, one finger touching a sensitive spot on the back of his neck, causing him to reflexively shrug up his shoulders. Finally, Dick looked straight at the camera seeming to beg Bruce to end this. The man nuzzled his face against Dick's, causing the boy to shiver, and stroked Dick's chin with his free hand. Dick's eyes slid to him, and he tried to lean away but was hindered by the ropes around his chest.

"Against my better instincts, I won't do anything naughty to your precious boy, Mr. Wayne. But if those funds aren't in my account by midnight Thursday or earlier… well, I'll just get to have my fun." The video ended there, to the horror of those watching. On the one hand, it was proof of life; on the other, Dick didn't look to be in the best condition. Plus, the time stamp was from Friday evening.

* * *

><p>Dick knew they were eating. He could smell the food. It smelled like fried chicken, fast food. They weren't exactly being quiet with their chomping. The car had slowed a little bit ago as well. His stomach growled. They had fed him something before they left the shack, and again the day before yesterday, right before his third escape attempt. What they had given him was not filling at all.<p>

Food sounded good. It would taste good, too. Were they planning to starve him until they gave him back to Bruce? He could go a while without food, but that didn't mean he didn't want any. Although, poisoned food might be a good thing to avoid, if he wanted to live and all. Thankfully, they had given him water several times, so he didn't have to worry about that.

He had tried to escape twice more since they left the shack. Once the same day and again the day before yesterday. Definitely not some of his smarter moves, but something felt fishy about the situation. Heh. Fishy. Alfred makes excellent fish dishes. Like the one he made last Wednesday. Jason's face when he saw the dish was great. Jason doesn't like fish very much. He prefers chicken, and cookies. They both like cookies, with milk. Alfred makes the best cookies ever. He had some secret recipe that equaled perfection.

Anyhow, back to the escape attempts. After the ransom video, Dick had been fed, and then they had replaced the gag and gave him a weak sedative. As it kicked in, he noticed that the men seemed to be dirtying him up. They did something with the video camera that he wasn't fully aware of. As soon as they were finished, they had immediately shoved him back in the trunk of the car and fixed the trunk so that it could only be opened by a crowbar again. So, there had been no chance then. Hmm. Crows. Crows liked corn. Corn sounded good about now. Did you know that the majority of corn crops went to livestock, such as cows? Alfred made excellent cornbread, too, but he only made it occasionally and for Thanksgiving. Mmm. Corn.

Dick woke up again much later. He was still drowsy from the sedative though, and dozed off instead of trying to get the ropes off. After another hour or so, the car pulled to a stop. As they pulled Dick out to transfer him to another car, he seized the chance to bolt, completely forgetting that he had neglected to remove his bindings. Luckily, his legs weren't tied, or he would have face planted immediately. As it was, Dick blindly ran straight into one of the Dingbats, who instantly caught him and lifted him up from the ground. Had he mentioned he hated being short? Couldn't one of them be shorter? This was way too easy for them, especially since he couldn't pull a Robin move that was guaranteed to get him out of their hold.

Whichever Dingbat was holding him carried him towards the other car. He managed to blindly kick one of the other Dingbats in the stomach and head-butted the one behind him. The Dingbats both grunted, but unfortunately didn't sound injured. Oh well, he tried. For his troubles, he received a prick on his shoulder and no food for the day. When he woke up from the sedation, he found he was propped against a wall, with something cold against his neck. He tried to lean forward, but immediately stopped when there was a sudden pressure on his throat causing him to choke slightly.

After that, Dick decided that it would be easier to get past a single Dingbat than all three. He had targeted Dingbat 1 as the easiest to get past, from what he could remember of his build. If he could wait until only 1 was guarding him, he was sure that he could get away.

The chance came the next evening. They stopped in a wooded area for the night, not too far from the road but sufficiently hidden. They fed him a small cup of what tasted like a cheap potato and cheese chowder, which sounded really good around now. He ate quickly, not putting it past them to get bored with feeding him and not give him the full serving. For some reason, the Dingbats hadn't bothered to redo the gag, probably thinking he had learned his lesson about trying to call for help. He had. After dinner, two of the Dingbats went to sleep while the third kept watch, as seemed to be the normal nightly routine.

1 had the second shift, so Dick decided to take a short nap before attempting anything. All day spent in the trunk of car allowed him to carefully loosen the ropes around his wrists without the Dingbats noticing. In about an hour, he loosened them enough that he could easily slip his wrists out at any time, but stopped there so as to keep up appearances. Dick woke up during the shift change. He waited until people stopped shifting around, and he didn't feel any eyes on him. Then, he quietly slipped one hand out of the slack ropes, raised it to the collar around his neck, and started picking the lock with a needle he'd picked up the night before. The Dingbats had wrapped a blanket around him so he wouldn't freeze to death—given that it was November and all. The blanket easily hid his actions.

There was a soft click as the collar unlocked. Dick froze, and listened for any signs that Dingbat 1 had heard it. There were none, so he turned on stealth mode, took the collar off and slipped his other hand out of the ropes. He reached up to take the blindfold off, standing up as he did so.

Suddenly, Dick was smashed against the tree, held up by an arm on his neck. He let loose a yelp as his head collided hard with a bump on the trunk. Someone grabbed one of his wrists, twisting it and pinning it above his head.

"Waz going on?" Dingbat 2 asked. Whoever was holding Dick's wrist tightened their grip. Dick gave a wheezing cough. 2 instantly sounded more awake. "Woah. What are you doing? Why did you untie him?"

"I didn't." A soft voice, which he hadn't heard before, stated directly in front of him. "We underestimated the rich brat." 1 leaned forward, holding Dick up with 1's body weight. 1's arm, which was pinning Dick's neck to the tree moved away, and his now free hand covered Dick's mouth and nose, effectively suffocating him. Dick thrashed under his grip, getting a few good kicks in, before going limp as his vision went black.

When he regained consciousness, he was trussed up again in the back of a car. The collar and gag were back and the ropes around his wrists and now ankles were tied so tight that he couldn't feel his fingers or toes. He could, however, feel a slight ache in his stomach, which decided to make itself heard with a loud gurgle.

"What was that?"

"Donno. Sounded like a wild animal."

"Whatever it is, we can take it."

"Naturally."

Dick whimpered softly. They continued for about an hour, country music blaring, before the car made a bunch of turns and slowed to a stop. The Dingbats got out. Straining his ears, Dick could hear the sound of another car unlocking, and something clinking. The trunk opened and he felt two pairs of hands grasp his arms and legs firmly.

"Can we put these on him with the other ropes still tied?" Huh. These what? New restraints? Maybe the Dingbats wised up to his stubbornness and upped their game. Joke's on them. Robin knew how to get out of boundless types of restraints. All he'd have to do is activate the lock picks in his glove pointer fingers and… Oh wait; he wasn't Robin at the minute, no gloves. Dang it.

It might be a good idea to get away before these new restraints were on him. Yeah, the new ones were probably something he wanted to avoid. Dick coiled his muscles, planning the best course of action.

Click.

Too late.

**Mwa ha ha. **

**Please review. Especially about the Dingbat # versus # question.**

**For reference, most of the Dickie-bird scenes in the next couple chapters take place the day before the Bruce scenes in the next couple chapters. I originally had it organized so that scenes happened virtually simultaneously, but my beta suggested that I should reveal the chapter that was originally going to be Chapter 5 later, so I reorganized them, and added a scene to my outline that would explain something I'd left out.**

**I googled foreign bank account numbers when writing this in order to get the structure. Forgot which country I chose, but I added a digit in a random place, just in case I accidentally picked a real bank number. **


	7. Oh no, you didn't!

**I do not own Young Justice or fairies, which have nothing to do with this story... and probably won't.**

**Thanks for all the reviews! I had seven when I woke up yesterday, so I got to work on editing this one instead of waiting until next week****. (I can be motivated by happiness/support) 11 reviews by now.**

**Enjoy.**

Chapter 6

Bruce drummed his fingers impatiently on his desk, glaring at the beeper that would relay the coordinates of his son. It was early Thursday morning and eight hours after the money had been transferred, without a tracker. The money had been relatively easy to get his hands on because it was mostly from the funds that he had neglected to reintegrate after Dick's last kidnapping.

Convincing Commissioner Gordon that paying the ransom was better than nonpayment, which Gordon suggested because he still thought Dick had been kidnapped by terrorists, was the difficult part. Bruce had pointed out that none of the other kidnappings thought to be by the group had ransoms, so it was probably someone different. Once Commissioner Gordon had conceded the point, Bruce had transferred the funds as fact as humanly possible.

Superman had mentioned to Batman that it might be a good idea to bring along some League members, to ensure that there was back up just in case it did turn out to be terrorists like Gordon was pushing. Batman had considered it, and decided to put Robin's team on it, as half of them were involved already. He had begun taking Robin, Jr. out on patrol dressed as his older brother earlier in the week, to deflect suspicion in case Dick was injured. He had wanted to activate Contingency Plan Jaybird, as Robin called it, and Robin, Jr had been begging to go on patrol for a long time. Batman just wished it was under better circumstances.

Batman mentioned the idea to include a security detail around Bruce Wayne when he went to pick up Dick. Commissioner Gordon agreed, and passed it on to Alfred, as Bruce Wayne was unavailable. Batman, meanwhile, passed the mission and details on to the team and Red Arrow.

"_Your mission is a young boy named Richard Grayson. He was kidnapped last Thursday evening around 5 pm, with Artemis as the only witness. The GCPD and some members of the Justice League believe he was kidnapped by child traffickers or terrorists. This theory was mostly removed when his fath-guardian Bruce Wayne removed a package in the mail yesterday containing a ransom tape." At this point, he played the ransom video, which he had digitized after Batman had received it from Commissioner Gordon. Roy watched with rapt attention, having not seen it yet, while the other three already involved averted their eyes. "The ransom has been paid, and Bruce Wayne is simply waiting for the coordinates of his s-ward to be sent."_

"_I'll bet." Wally muttered. Batman narrowed his eyes at him, causing the boy to raise his arms defensively. Internally, he smirked over the fact that Batman kept almost referring to his kids as sons rather than wards._

"_Your mission is to act as a security force around Bruce Wayne and his wards in case the pick-up turns out to be different than it seems, and defeat the kidnappers if it comes to it."_

"_Wait, wards?" Zantanna asked. _

"_Yes, Bruce has another ward named Jason Todd. Artemis, Kid Flash, and Red Arrow will stay behind at the manor to protect Jason, as they are already involved in their civilian forms." Four pairs of eyes flashed to the offenders in surprised. "Meanwhile, Aqualad, Zantanna, Superboy, and Miss Martian will accompany Bruce Wayne to the pick-up site."_

"_Where is Robin? And where will you be?"_

"_We cannot come as our presence would be expected. Plus, Robin is busy with another task." _

_At this Wally thought, "Yeah. Staying alive," careful to keep his thoughts quiet so that M'gann would not hear. _

"_Yours would not be, as you are a covert team and the kidnappers likely do not know that Justice League is involved, giving you the advantage of surprise in a conflict. Plus, you are not the police."_

Now, as Bruce waited for the coordinates to appear, Artemis, Wally, Roy, Alfred, Jason, and Aqualad filled his study. Aqualad, was keeping watch on the window, carefully out of sight, while Wally paced and Jason played with a slinky. Artemis and Roy were playing War with a pack of cards, and Alfred stood stoically, with shadows under his eyes the only indicator of his worry and fatigue.

The beeper ba-dinged. Showtime.

* * *

><p>They took the Bioship to the coordinates, 14 hours away straight by car, two hours by Bioship, and an hour and a half by Bioship when Bruce was glaring at Miss Martian to make the ship go faster. The whole time, Bruce swallowed his nervousness. Taking the Bioship was a risk because the location was far from any airport and he had no concrete way of explaining how he got there. Bruce thought it was a risk worth taking though because he wanted to make sure his son, who'd been missing for a <em>week<em>, was home safely.

It was going to be alright though. As soon as they got there, his son would be in his arms, safe from harm. Bruce had brought clothes for Dick, which didn't look like his Robin civvies, and a pair of socks and shoes, although he was unsure if his boy would actually need them. Bruce was planning to pick him up and not put him down until he was safe in his bed. Next, he would clear the house of guests except for Wally, Roy, and maybe Artemis—she deserved to know by now—without leaving his son's room, where Jason would also be at the moment.

Then, he would allow the two—or three—remaining to visit Dick. Dick and Wally would argue over who won the bet, then look to Bruce for an answer, and he would oh, so reluctantly say that it was so close it must be a tie and he would have to sacrifice the money for a new Xbox and a new pair of goggles—the goggles were already in the mail anyways. Then, Alfred would walk in with a plate of cookies, and the boys would grin and the plate would disappear in a few minutes, tops.

"Approaching coordinates now." Miss Martian said. They had agreed that the Bioship would drop Bruce a mile from the coordinates, with a GPS tracker on hand. He, with Miss Martian invisible, would walk the rest of the way to the coordinates. The rest of the team would follow. He'd still be insanely early, but at least he wouldn't be accused of arriving weirdly.

Miss Martian put up the mental link. They dropped down to the forest ground, and started marching through the undergrowth of a deciduous forest. They were deep into the Appalachian Mountains, not close to main roads. A car driving this way would be hidden from the time it left the main road to when it returned, even this late in the year.

Before long, the two came along a rusty shack, with walls matching the background of the ransom video. There were car tracks, but they looked to be old and were partially faded by a recent rain. Foot prints and boot prints led to the woods, also old, but only boot prints came back, although one set was deeper, suggesting added weight. There were also prints near where a car may have been parked. No car was in sight. A sick feeling was beginning to rise in Bruce's stomach, but he forced himself to stay calm.

Miss Martian relayed these facts to the rest of the team as Bruce moved forward towards the shack, which had a lock on it. He looked at Miss Martian, asking if he could call out for his son.

"Go ahead." She thought. "Superboy, can you come break the lock?"

"Dick?" Bruce called out, knocking on the door. "Dick, are you in there?" There was no response. "Dick, answer me. Please. It's Bruce." Bruce moved aside to allow Superboy to break the lock.

"He might be unconscious. I can't sense his mind." Miss Martian relayed over the link. The world seemed to darken as a sun went behind a cloud.

"Dick!" He called. Superboy tore the lock off the door, and Bruce wasted no time shoving him aside, ripping the door open, and entering.

The room, when they entered was dark, with no telltale signs of life. Bruce pulled out and flicked on a flashlight. The background matched the video exactly. Serrated edged walls, a chair bolted to the floor with ropes hanging loosely around it seemed to fill the room. There were some gardening tools in the corner and a video camera that probably filmed the ransom video was still set up in the middle of the small room, but no Dick. No Richard Grayson nor any body anywhere. A light coating of leaves and twigs brought in by the recent rain through a crack in the window indicated that the room had not been touched in almost a week. Bruce turned in a large circle, searching with a flashlight for his son.

"No." He thought to himself, and then, to the group at large, "He's not here."

"Superboy, Miss Martian, Zantanna, search the area. I'll help Mr. Wayne search for evidence." Kaldur took charge over the mental link.

"Mr. Wayne, I'll be inside in a second." Bruce moved towards the video camera and picked it up, as Kaldur entered the room behind him. Unbeknownst to them, the removal of the camera triggered a signal that was picked up miles away. Touching the camera, he noticed there was a tape inside the camera. He pressed play.

The camera showed the room as it had been when the ransom video had been made, except Dick was dirtier and obviously out of it. The black-shrouded man from the first video stood behind the boy, one hand on his shoulder. The ropes had been loosened, but not removed.

"Hello Mr. Wayne. As I'm sure you've noticed, having found this video, the room around you is void of life. I told you would send his current location, didn't I? As of when I made these videos, so now, this is his current location. However, by the time you receive the ransom video, pay the ransom, and get the coordinates for this location, we'll be long gone. Don't feel bad. We were never planning to give him back anyways. We thank you for your generous donation to our cause." Bruce's mouth went slack. They weren't giving his boy back? But he had paid the ransom! It was supposed to be an exchange! What did they mean 'generous donation'? What had he done? Kaldur gently laid a hand on Bruce's back to calm the man, and Bruce didn't have the heart to shake it off. They kept watching.

"You should probably begin to think of yourself now. I don't know if you've noticed, but there's a bomb by the gardening tools. I believe I managed to make it almost silent." He looked pleased with himself. "The timer was activated when you removed the camera from the stand. Have a pleasant day."

In the end, Kaldur had to drag Bruce out of there so that they would not both be blown to bits. When they returned to the Bioship, the feelings of shock were beginning to fade, replaced by pure hate and anger. Bruce should have known. The signs were there. He would find his son. Then, he would find the man who stole his son from him, and that monster would face the full wrath of the Batman.

**Psych!**

**Sorry, guys. Story's not over yet. Please Review!**

**Ransom Guy=Dingbat 3. Updates will probably slow down again because school starts back tomorrow.**

**Replies to Guest Reviews:**

**Guest: Thanks! Yeah, he's a little distracted by his stomach. Glad you liked it. :)**

**Amy: They're basically thick metal cuffs, a bit like Robin's in Teen Titans when he got captured by the Brotherhood, plus bicep and ankle cuffs. The Dingbats went a little overboard. **

**Shussun: I'm not entirely sure what you said in the first line. Can you clarify please? Thanks for reviewing.**


	8. Save Your Strength You'll Need It

**Thanks for all the reviews! I had fun reading and responding to them. Thanks for the follows and favorites, too!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice.**

**The first part of this chapter takes place the night before Chapter 6, so, Wednesday night, while the second part happens at about the same time.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 7

If the ransom was paid, why wasn't he on his way home? The kidnappers had done little to harm him or indicate that he wouldn't return home. Although, they had been moving him a lot… Come to think of it, where was he? He could hear the ocean lapping up against the docks, but the smell that accompanied that location in Gotham was absent. The air was stale in the prison he'd been in for the last day or so, but it did not smell of rotting garbage, human waste, and disease.

There was a creak from across the room to the right that Dick associated with the door. Four sets of footsteps approached him. He tensed and forced himself to remain still and not lash out with Robin's skill and wit.

Dick had yet to see his kidnappers again, despite the fact that a week had passed. It had been a week, right? They had bound his arms at the wrists and biceps and his legs at the ankles. Then, at each new location, they chained him by the neck to some point by or on the wall. They claimed they wanted no acrobatic level escape tricks from the circus freak. Dick wasn't really worried about that part. Batman had taught him how to escape all sorts of traps and bindings, and he had, in fact, learned some escape tricks from the circus. Unfortunately, he didn't think that escaping, or attempting to escape would work in his favor. After all, the first three tries were what led to this point… The bindings had been fairly simple before the attempts. Now, they were solid metal.

If he could be Robin, he would have gotten away by now, taken down his kidnappers, and called Batman for pickup. Maybe the Justice League if he was mad enough. Definitely Wally and Roy. Dick fantasized about watching them beat up the kidnappers, although they probably wouldn't be too mad because, minus a few bruises, he was virtually unharmed, for some reason.

The footsteps stopped next to him. "This him?" A rough voice asked. This guy was new. His voice reminded Dick of the grunts who often worked for bigger villains. Dick wondered again what was going on here. The ransom had to have been paid by now. Bruce wouldn't willingly leave him in the hands of kidnappers. Batman should have found him by now. Maybe, these guys were taking him home?

"Yeah, that's him. Wayne's runt."

"Excellent, prepare him." Two sets of hands grabbed Dick's forearms and legs as the neck chain was disconnected from the wall. "Hmm, medium sized will do." The rough voice said. Medium sized what? Clothing? He was a small in shirts and pants though, not a medium.

"Don't try anything, or you'll regret it," the now familiar voice of Dingbat 3 hissed in Dick's ear. Confused, Dick stayed perfectly still. To his surprise, the cuffs around his ankles were unlocked and removed. In one quick motion, he was flipped onto his stomach and the cuffs around his biceps and wrists were also taken off. The man holding Dick's arms, Dingbat 2, he thought based on the hand texture, moved his grip to Dick's wrists. Dick was hauled to his feet and his wrists were rebound in front of him with normal handcuffs. The gag and duct tape blindfold remained.

Without giving him a second's reprieve to gain his footing and thoughts, Dingbats 2 and 3 shoved him forward. Dick stumbled, and then moved forward with the men. His bare feet met the dirt of what seemed to be a warehouse, based on the echoes. After going 12 paces forward, 4 paces to the right, and another 3 paces forward, Dick bumped into something metallic and hard. Then, they stopped. Dingbats 2 and 3 kept a tight hold on their captive—probably due to experience—while the new guy and who he thought was Dingbat 1 because of the lack of speech, did something else. He wasn't sure what.

Dick jumped slightly when a loud, scraping sound sounded to his right. It was a slightly familiar, loud, scraping sound, like that of a heavy sheet of metal being moved, and then a loud crash as if the heavy sheet had been dropped to the ground. Unbidden, the hairs on the back of Dick's neck began to stand up and he leaned away from where the sound came from.

"Quiet, you idiot!" The rough voice barked out. "Do you want to get caught?"

"It's fine. It's not like we're in Gotham. No Batman breaking in here. We'll live," 2 replied. "'Sides. I altered the guard rotations to create a gap. No one is walking by here for another half hour." Dick's breath caught at the admission, but quickly calmed down. He knew they weren't in Gotham, knew from the smell. This was just a confirmation. He'd be home soon.

Yet, that little sprout of doubt was blooming in his chest. Something wasn't right here. He had been kidnapped almost a week ago, judging by the number of times he'd been fed. This was his longest kidnapping to date, and he knew Bruce would have paid the ransom as soon as opportunity allowed if it meant Dick would be home, and Batman had to be searching too. Wally and Roy and probably Artemis must be searching as well because they would have known right away. Maybe the whole team was searching, so why hadn't they found him yet?

Trapped in his thoughts, Dick was caught by surprise when an arm swept under his knees yanking him into the air. Dick immediately began to squirm and fight, but it had no effect on the man holding him. The week of starvation had chipped away his strength. Dick was placed down on a hard metal surface against a smooth wall. A box. He was in a metal box. He shot up, trying to escape, to get out, but was slammed back down, hitting his head on the wall and momentarily winding him.

The hands—he lost track of whose and how many—didn't move this time holding him down while other hands placed stuff in around him. Dick fought the hands with everything he had, fear overriding his typically logical mind. One of the hands released his arm and slapped him hard across the face. Dick instantly stilled. The other hands were still moving around him. The rough voice spoke like a snake entrapping his prey.

"Listen up and listen hard, boy. I have no patience for rich little snots like you. Fortunately for you, you're special order: delivery uninjured. Otherwise, I would love to spend a few hours breaking your pathetic little soul. Struggle too much, and you'll be 'accidentally' lost at sea." Chills ran down Dick's spine at the assertion. He could easily believe that this new man would have no qualms about seriously harming, or killing, him. The other hands stopped moving and withdrew. Although he couldn't see it, Dick could feel the intensity of his captor's gaze upon him. "Now, you aren't going to move for the next two minutes while we finish up. Understood?" Dick nodded his head slightly. "Good boy." The hands moved off of him, but he didn't move. A slight buzzing filled his head. He wondered if he might have a concussion from hitting his head on the wall. The rough voice was moving away, giving orders to the Dingbats.

A hand landed on Dick's head holding it in place. Dick tensed, but the man was simply removing the metal collar from his neck. Heh, why was it called removing anyway? They were taking it off and essentially destroying it and it probably would not be moved much after that so shouldn't it be demoving or unmoving or just moving or… or… something.

Against his will, Dick began to shake. He was in a _metal box_, near a port, far from Gotham. He wasn't stupid. He knew that there were multiple cases of child trafficking near the borders and coasts. The rough voice had said he was _Special Order_. That wasn't encouraging, although it would explain why he wasn't with other kids and hadn't been returned home yet.

Something rough and thick was dropped on top of him. Dick's trembling increased. Were they covering him up? Would he be overlooked by the crew because a tarp covered him? Hands tucked around him, but his head remained free. A blanket, he realized. They were wrapping him in a blanket. He slowly pulled his feet into the warmth, freezing, when he felt a glare upon him. A thick cylinder was dropped in his lap, and the rough voice spoke up again.

"In case you're too daft to figure it out, we just gave you a blanket and a flashlight. Use them as you may, there's enough battery power left for six hours of light. You have enough food and fresh water around you to last two and a half weeks, if you use it wisely. You shouldn't be in there that long, but you might be in there longer. I suggest you pace yourself brat. This is all you're getting. My buddy here is going to remove your gag. Don't try anything; there's no one around and they'd never find your body if there was." Dick felt the gag loosen and disappear. He was shaking so hard now that, if he were Wally, he'd probably be vibrating through the ground. He didn't doubt, special order or not, that the rough voice would follow through with his threats. Dick didn't make a peep. "Good boy." There was a prick on his right arm near his shoulder. Dick's eyes widened beneath his blindfold. "Rest now."

As Dick faded into unconsciousness, he heard one of the Dingbats ask, "If you had a sedative the whole time, why wait until now to use it?"

"He needs to be out until the ship gets out to sea, when there will be no rescue. Plus, I love watching them struggle and seeing the fear in their faces as they realize the truth of the situation. It's pure bliss."

**A/N Thought about leaving it there. Decided against it. End A/N**

When Dick next came to consciousness, he felt the ground rolling below him. Resisting the urge to puke up what little was in his stomach, partially because he needed the calories if he were to survive and because he didn't want to smell it for the next… how long had the rough voice said… two weeks or more? Crud. Dick hoped that Bruce would figure out what happened and soon. Even if he did know, though, it would be difficult for him to find Dick.

The ship was in the middle of the ocean, one of hundreds, and Dick didn't know where it was going or where it had come from. Bruce might not even know when it had left. Maybe if Bruce figured out what port he left out of, he could start somewhere, but there was no telling which ship he was on or, for Bruce, when he had left or if he had left at all. No, there could be no waiting for Bruce on this one. When he did reach the docks of whatever obscure location he was going to, there would be a very small window for escape and he would have to take advantage of it… if he could walk.

That was a while away, however, so Dick figured he better catalog his supplies. Fumbling with the flashlight he'd been given in his still handcuffed hands, he found the switch and flicked it. The change in lighting was so miniscule that Dick could barely see it at all. Slightly panicky, he flipped it again and again, and then forced himself to calm down. Why wasn't there a difference in lighting? Think, Grayson. There was probably a reasonable explanation.

He dropped the flashlight and lifted his hands to his head. Goggles, still not sure why he was allowed to keep them, but check. Hair, oily and in desperate need of a wash, check. Eyes, blindfolded, check. Wait… oh. Slightly embarrassed at himself, Dick unwound the blindfold from his face, tugging slightly but carefully so as to not accidentally pull his hair out. He estimated that it took him an eternity to get it all the way off. Dang Dingbats and their infernal skills at blindfolding thirteen year old boys.

His surroundings instantly sprang into view. He blinked a few times to adjust his eyes to the sudden light. The box was metal, as he predicted, but there were holes throughout. Tiny holes, that he couldn't even fit his pinky finger in, but holes all the same. Probably for breathing.

The rough voice hadn't lied. The thick sheet he had felt was, in fact a blanket. Shining his flashlight on it, he saw it looked red. Hopefully, that was the original color scheme and not from the blood of its victims. Umm… Maybe that thought process wasn't the best. Blood of those who escaped and returned home? Uh... A little better, but not much. Whatever caused the blanket's coloring, Dick didn't want to know. He struggled to pull the blanket tighter with his handcuffed hands.

The Dingbats hadn't given him new clothes to replace the ones they had taken from him when he was captured. They had probably been sent to Bruce with a bit of blood from the small, shallow cut he had on his forearm or destroyed in fear of trackers or something. The blanket—and his boxers—were all he had for warmth. The goggles he'd been able to keep giving off nothing. Dick wished that these had a beacon like the new ones they had ordered did, but he knew that they didn't. Well, at least Wally would have a simple way to identify him. Crap, he had those on during the ransom video, didn't he? Hopefully, no one made the connection and shouted it to the world, *cough* Artemis *cough*.

Looking around him, he saw two loaves of bread, some canned food with a can opener, thankfully, a few boxes of what looked like protein bars, and a ton of water. He counted 23 water bottles. That would last him a while.

Dick sighed and leaned back, then clicked the flashlight to off. Looks like he would be here a while. Might as well save his light. He closed his eyes, and listened to the boat rocking.

**A/N**

**The plot thickens. Dick's a little weak already from hunger and stress, making it harder for him to fight back. Doesn't stop him from trying, but the men are also twice his size, strong, able to see, and unrestrained. **

**So, here's another one of my favorite chapters to write, and I actually originally wrote the whole thing in a notebook. (I was bored in AP Lit) For Trivia, I also wrote part of Chapter 2, Chapter 9, and an extra blurb in the same notebook.**

**Unfortunately, this is where I leave you for a few weeks. School just started back, and I have three new classes, which replaced the ones in which I mostly had free time. I don't mind because I like thinking while I'm at school, and one of them is film class, but I still need to get used to the increased workload and being a Second Semester Senior. Apparently, that's a big deal at my school. All my teachers are calling us Second Semester Seniors, the full title, now, instead of just Seniors. It's like we have a status above Senior status. Also, my team has a competition in two weeks, and there's a high chance that I'm participating. All my free time until after my 18th birthday will be spent reading, cleaning my room, and celebrating said date of birth. Luckily, this chapter was already ready, so I'm posting it now. **

**There's a three week time skip between this chapter and the next, so it seemed a good place to leave off for a while.**

**So, tell me what you think, please. Any theories, ideas, cries of anger, comments, suggestions, etc. are welcome.**

**For extra incentive, although you don't need it, review and I'll send you a short extra scene sometime next weekend, or sometime later if you review after I send it out. (Guests, just include your email in the review)**


	9. The Journey

**Update, update. Everyone loves an update! **

**I do not own Young Justice.**

Chapter 8

The cargo ship _CS Coyote_ pulled into the port of a busy city in early morning. The ship's crew breathed a sigh of relief, glad to see land after a particularly grueling voyage. Although they had expected the trip to last two and a half weeks, rough seas and a small problem with the navigation system had led to a three week journey.

As the ship was secured to dock, several companies arrived to receive their wares, fighting to get first in line. One such company, Tour Trips International, pushed to the very front. The nature of their wares was time sensitive, to say the least, and the pickup crew sincerely hoped they weren't too late.

The ship began unloading at 9:00 AM. The two vehicles, one large bus with the company logo and one smaller truck, which the company had rented, were loaded up completely by 10:00 AM. Once they were sure all wares were secured, the company drove out of the port and then directly south. After ten minutes, the smaller, nondescript truck broke and went east. After another 30 minutes of driving, the smaller truck pulled off the road into an isolated grove where a couple black vans were parked and began to unload there.

Dick's box was the third off the ship and most secured, having the smaller truck to himself due to the amount of paranoia attached to a billionaire's son. He would have tried to escape or make noise at the very least, but as _CS Coyote_ was pulling into port early that morning, a device hidden near the top of his box broke open a smoke tablet and knocked him out with an extremely mild airborne sedative. The sedative was designed to last four hours, more or less, and would actually only make a healthy adult sleepy, so the company pick up crew had waited until the boat slowed and was tying up to activate it. The last thing they wanted was for the ware that had finally arrived to be eradicated when it was so close to pick up. The boss would have been furious, and probably would have shot the messenger, if the injuries of the few who'd gone in reporting the ship's tardiness were any indicator.

As it was, the truck reached the grove two and a half hours after the sedative had been applied. Working quickly, the driver and his partner pulled the medium container out of the back of the truck and placed it as gently as they could on the ground. With a crowbar and arm strength, they removed the top from the box and dropped it on the ground with a loud clatter. Reaching inside, the partner wrapped his arms around a skinny frame, and set it in a nearby chair.

The boy was cocooned in the blanket, fully unconscious. Even if the tablet had not activated, he probably still would have been helpless. The longer-than-expected journey had robbed him of all energy, and he had run out of food at least three days ago. While he had not completely run out of water—partially because he recycled it—he was dehydrated enough that it was impossible for him to raise his voice above a whisper, and difficult to speak at all. He had no energy to stand, much less walk, run, or fight.

The driver took the prisoner's pulse. Determining the pulse to be too weak, he pulled out a bottle of Gatorade—for hydration as well as calories—and tipped the Gatorade into his mouth. Once about half the bottle, the amount the driver believed the young teen's body could handle at the moment, was gone, the partner placed an oxygen mask over the kid's mouth and nose. Tucking the oxygen tank into the blanket cocoon, the partner picked the ware up and placed him into a crate that he just barely fit inside curled into a ball. Cramming the oxygen tank in next to the boy, the partner put the top on, and picked up the box.

The two men with cargo moved to one of the vans outside, placed the box in, and drove away from the grove. All this took place within the span of twenty minutes. They then added a few extra hours to their route to switch cars, and occasionally boxes for their cargo, in order to throw off potential pursuers. Whenever the two men would switch cars, they would switch drivers between the two of them. Whoever was not driving would climb into the back of whatever car they were using with the cargo, and take the top off whatever container they were using at the moment. He would check the body's pulse and the tank's oxygen levels, and then remove the mask briefly to give the boy some more Gatorade. They went through three bottles total over the trip. If there was another container to move the boy to, he would do so, and attach the oxygen mask to a new tank if the old one was running low on oxygen after the tank and boy were both crammed in. If there was not a new container, the mask would simply be reattached.

Three times during the journey, the car met up with other cars and added new cargo to the car exchange and switched out one of the men. By the end of the ride, there were five sacks of skin and bone in a van in addition to the two drivers.

Around the second switch/ first container switch, not including the one in the grove, Dick began to stir. The original driver had deemed that another sedative would do more harm than help and not truly improve his cooperativeness because of his current state of weakness. Rather than giving him one anyways, the men currently in charge of the boy rewrapped his blanket cocoon tighter, although no longer over his head, making sure it was tightest around his feet. They placed a cloth blindfold around his head, and left it at that. It was enough. Dick couldn't move a muscle when he awoke.

* * *

><p>Dick knew the instant he was aware he was no longer in dreamland that he was off the ship. The rolling sensation was gone and replaced by the smooth drone of a car engine. Great. Moved while unconscious. He resisted the urge to sigh. He felt more cramped as well. When he tried to stretch out, he discovered that he was in a much smaller container, and that he had somehow been bound firmer, which was odd because he could only feel the scratchy, definitely-not-blood red blanket around him. The world spun when he shifted his head slightly, making him feel nauseous. The area was still dark, but he could feel something on his face. He assumed he had a blindfold on. The car sounds were soothing, and strangely comforting, and Dick was lulled back to sleep.<p>

* * *

><p>The next time Dick awoke, it was to the slamming of car doors and then to voices outside the car. The car was stopped for the moment. Rather than try to figure out what they were saying, like he might have earlier in his journey, Dick went back to sleep. He really didn't have enough energy for anything more.<p>

The final time Dick awoke, it was when the truck arrived at its destination and the man driving went around and removed the oxygen tanks and shut them off. At this point, the wares were all in body bags. Some of the men who had been at the earlier stop exchanges had beat them there, and stood now to pick up a body bag or two each and carry them to what Dick would learn was officially called the "Special Processing Section," but was more commonly called the "Target Dump." Everybody who went there was either special order, special interest, or more trouble than the average subject.

While Dick couldn't see this happening, he did feel the air change, something being removed from his face, something hard and round being moved from his side, and then being picked up and carried somewhere. By about halfway through the boat voyage, he had stopped caring about his fate in favor of focusing on hunger and thirst, while attempting to keep a rational mind.

In the Target Dump, four boys and a girl were pulled from the body sacks. Their bindings were undone and blindfolds removed. The nurses gave them a quick wash and dressed them. Then, the kids were placed in hospital beds to recover from their ordeal, which only special subjects went through.

**A/N**

**Short chapter, but an extremely important one. Things will pick up again next chapter... which takes place after another three week time skip, and will be long and introduce my favorite character, if I don't decide to do a chapter back with Batman and the team. Still debating that. Which one do you guys want first? Batman and the team or more Dick? **

**Anyhow, my competition is over- we got third place- so I will be working to put together the next few chapters. I'm about at the point where a lot of one side of the story is written, but the other side is not and I need to write a lot more before posting, rather than just editing like I did for the first eight or nine chapters, so updates won't be as fast as the first few. **

**Please review! Especially with anything you would like to see happen and any characters you would like to make an appearance. The plot is flexible at this point of the story as Dick meets a bunch of people and the Leagues investigate. :D**

**On another note, I didn't get any of the emails from guest reviews for the last chapter. I looked it up and fanfiction deletes URLs, so try the format email-at-serverlike'gmail'or'yahoo'. Thanks.**


	10. New Birds

**OMG! A chapter?!**

**I do not own Young Justice.**

Chapter 9

"This is stupid," Jason, or, more accurately at this moment, Robin said as Batman drove to the Zeta Tubes. Batman glanced at his second son, but said nothing.

"I mean, I've been on patrol. Isn't that enough? I don't need to join Dick's little league, too."

"No names in costume."

Robin snorted. There was silence for a few seconds and then, "It's not like they'll like me. They'd never think I was Golden Boy; they know him too well. Wa- Kid Flash and probably Artemis will know instantly that it's me, and the rest of the team may put two and two together about, you know, both Robin and Robin's identity going missing at the same time." More silence. "Are you even going to tell them he's missing? It's been over a month and you've already got them searching for him."

"The Robin they know is currently on an extended undercover mission where he cannot make contact without revealing his position. You are filling in to-"

"Throw off public suspicion. I know. I know. Contingency Plan Jaybird. Doesn't make it any easier or more preferable…" Batman glanced at his son again. Jason was fidgeting, something that he didn't do very often in general.

Batman pulled into an abandoned alleyway and parked. He and Jason got out and then he set an electric lock, so that no one (else) could steal the tires, or any other parts for that matter. They set down through the alleyways until they reached an abandoned phone booth. Batman ushered Jason inside, and went ahead to Mount Justice in order to authorize him.

"Recognized. Batman 02. Recognized Robin B13. Authorization. Batman 02."

"ROBIN! Oh my god! Where have you been? Why haven't you been answering your messages? You have a lot of—," Zatanna paused as she slid into the mission room, the rest of the team trailing after her. Her face turned from excitement to confusion and disappointment. "You're not Robin."

Jason crossed his arms and scowled, glaring at the floor.

"Batman, what is the meaning of this?" Aqualad asked, studying the distraught kid next to Batman.

"Hey RJ. Batman promoting you?" Wally greeted Jason softly, the circles under his eyes showing prominently.

"Yeah." Jason muttered.

"Team, this is Robin," Batman started.

"Junior," Jason interrupted.

"Robin, Junior," Batman amended. "He's Robin's younger brother and will be taking over for Robin until Robin gets back." He paused, studying the expressions of those in front of him. None of them looked happy, but only Zatanna and Jason really looked upset. Superboy, Miss Martian, and Aqualad looked perplexed, while Wally remained in the perpetual state of worry he'd been in since Robin disappeared, and Artemis looked like she'd seen this coming. "On missions, you will call him Robin, and behave accordingly, so that the villains do not catch on that he isn't Robin. In your free time…" Batman trailed off, mostly because he didn't really know what they should call Jason in their free time.

"During free time, you can call me RJ, like Wally does, or any other appropriate name unless I nix it." Jason said.

"When will Robin be returning?" Aqualad asked.

Batman ignored the question. "We've located footage from a warehouse near Savannah, Georgia of one of the suspects in the Wayne case about a week after Richard's disappearance. Richard Grayson may or may not have been held at that dock. Your mission is to investigate and determine if he was there and for how long."

"Where's Robin? Why won't you tell us anything about him? He said he would be here, almost a month ago, and he never came, never told us he would be gone. What's really going on Batman? Why's he getting replaced?" Zatanna glared at the older hero.

"Robin is on a secret, undercover mission-"

"Bull. Tell us the truth. We're Robin's team. We deserve to know."

"Zatanna-"

"Don't 'Zatanna' me! Wally's barely eating in comparison to how much he should be as a speedster and looks like he's barely slept in weeks. Red Arrow looks much the same, although that could be in part due to his other issues. None of the Leaguers will look us in the eye when we ask about him, meaning they know something as well, but won't tell us unless you give them the go ahead. In fact, they didn't even tell us he was on a mission until after you did. Is Robin actually on a mission? Or is that just how you're hiding his disappearance?"

"You have your mission," Batman muttered to Aqualad underneath Zatanna's rant

"That's it, isn't it? Robin's missing and you don't want anyone to know. Well, we, as his team and friends, deserve to know! Why aren't we looking? If he's missing, we should be out there looking for him, not some stupid little rich kid!"

"Recognized Batman 02."

"Hey! Don't leave me here!" Jason winced as all eyes, including Zatanna's wrathful ones, turned to him. He fought the urge to run after Batman.

"Team to the Bioship." While they started to the hangar, Aqualad paused and put a hand on Jason's shoulder. "RJ, Welcome to the team."

* * *

><p>Dick sat up on the bed and crossed his legs. Careful not to pull out his IV, he tapped his head to make sure his goggles were still there, and reached for his bowl of soup. Careful not to spill it on the soft, white clothes he'd woken up in shortly after his arrival, he began to slowly sip at the soup. As he ate, he observed the room around him. He wasn't sure how long he'd been in the room, and how long it had been since he was kidnapped from the alleyway, but it felt like ages had passed. There was a nurse in full scrubs over by one of the other kids, a girl with light brown hair and tan skin, faded by the lack of light. She had yet to fully wake up and looked to be about ten or eleven.<p>

Including the girl and Dick, there had been five children in the room the first time Dick was full aware of his surroundings. Since then, a sandy haired boy who looked to be 15 had fully recovered and was removed from the room to go to whatever came next. Another boy, who Dick didn't really remember, had passed in the night, waking the other kids when the machine next to his bed had flat lined. The doctor and nurses had tried to save him, but to no avail. The body was gone the next morning, but the event had succeeded in rattling the other children.

The last of the room's occupants was a small boy of maybe four or five years. All Dick could see of him was a dark ball of hair. Dick could tell he was a fighter, though. He was the only one who Dick had heard speak. He had attempted to stab one of the nurses with a scalpel and probably would have succeeded if another nurse hadn't spotted him moving and stopped him. The boy had struggled to get up, shouting profanity at the nurses in Arabic, although his shouts were slightly below normal volume to everyone else. The nurses ended up tying him down and giving him a mild sedative. The boy had a bad reaction to it, and developed a small fever.

Dick was impressed. He wished he could show that much strength and energy, but the first month or so of starvation had eroded his muscles to the point where all movements were flimsy. He was finally regaining his strength, but had yet to regain his ability to speak above a whisper. Still, it was the thought that counted. When Batman got ahold of these numbskulls…Well, it would put the kid's efforts to shame; that's for sure.

The door slid open with a hiss, prompting Dick's eyes to flick towards it. To his uneasiness, another nurse, the doctor, and a tall man with several obscure piercings, tattoos, and long hair pulled back into a ponytail entered. The tall man was carrying a case and Dick involuntarily shuddered. He had seen the tall man once before, a few days before the sandy haired boy had been declared recovered and moved on. They had closed the curtains—kind of like they were doing now—and then there had been soft murmured voices and then the sandy haired boy started screaming. Dick scooted as far back on his bed as he could, away from the strange man. Along the way, he upset his mostly empty bowl of soup and, painfully, yanked his IV out.

The evil doctor frowned disapprovingly, and then gestured to the two nurses. They moved to Dick's end of the bed. The doctor picked up the clipboard. "He is gaining strength slowly, but smoothly, as expected. I believe he is ready. Vital signs normal. He still has about ten pounds to gain to be considered normal. Do you know his number? It's the one we accidentally skipped in the last batch." The tall man nodded.

"Huh?" Dick asked.

One of the nurses gripped Dick firmly around the middle and grasped Dick's right arm close around his body. The other flattened out Dick's legs, to which Dick fought valiantly but ultimately failed. The second nurse held Dick's ankles so that his legs would remain straight. While this was happening, the tall man set his case down on the bed and began to pull out tools. Finding the ones he wanted, he sat down on Dick's legs with practiced ease. Dick gasped at the sudden pressure on his legs. Heart sinking, Dick saw that the tall man had grabbed a tattoo needle. The second nurse let go of Dick's ankles, and pulled Dick's left arm out and taut.

He bit his lip to keep from screaming as the needle entered his skin repeatedly. Ten agonizing minutes later, the tattoo devil, as Dick decided the tall man's name would be, finished and wrapped the raw tattoo up. The second nurse released Dick's arm and he automatically brought it close to his chest.

"We're done here, for now," The doctor said. They cleaned up and left Dick alone with his pounding arm.

* * *

><p>Not long after Dick gained his tattoo, the room cleared of nurses. Knowing he was probably leaving soon and realizing they had, likely accidentally, overlooked his IV for the time being, Dick wrapped his blanket around himself. He heaved himself to his feet and, using the rolling IV pole for support, wandered over to visit the room's smallest occupant. The small boy was still strapped down to the bed. He looked to be about three feet tall and scrawny like the rest of the kids in the room. Messy black hair stood out against sickly skin, cheeks red with fever. He kind of looked like a mini Bruce.<p>

In addition to a plethora of mostly healed bruises, there was an old, small cut by the kid's right eye. It almost looked like a sword nick. Dick reached his right hand out, still clutching his left to his chest protectively, and moved the boy's hair out of his eyes, to get a better look. The kid's eyes shot open and he instantly tried to escape his confines, causing Dick to jump back reflexively, and almost fall. Finding there was very little give in the straps, especially in his current state of health, the kid stopped struggling and fixed Dick with a fierce, hate-filled glare.

Dick blinked at the glare. Yep. He definitely looked like Bruce. Icy blue eyes intensified the effect. With a little bit of tweaking, this kid would have the perfect mini-Batglare. Dick wondered briefly if they were related, but decided probably not. Bruce would have told Dick if he had another son, and that other son would probably live in the manor with them. Jason did. Dick gave a small smile.

Noticing that his glare was having the opposite effect than what he intended. The boy opened his mouth and spewed out in Arabic. _"Untie me, you simpleton. You snatched the wrong kid. When my grandfather hears about this, __he will come in with his army and tear this place to pieces and kill everyone inside with a sword and then kill you, and then—"_

"_Your threats need some work." _Dick interrupted; glad Bruce had insisted he learn Arabic. _"And some more information. I'm actually as much of a prisoner here as you are. Except I can walk and you can't."_ He was kind of impressed that the kid had such a large vocabulary though. You know, for a four year old. He reached forward and undid the straps as he spoke. _"You will want to stay in bed. You have a fever, and would not make it far if you tried to run. Wait until you are better, and I would be glad to help you."_

The kid was silent for a minute, the glare softening on his face to be replaced by an expression of uncertainty. He jumped up the instant the straps were off, but almost immediately fell, probably due to swimming vision caused by the fever. Dick caught him, and gently guided him back into bed.

"_What's your name?"_ Dick prodded, pulling the covers over the kid's shivering body and tucking him in. The kid didn't answer, looking at him in confusion. "_I'm _Dick."

"_That is not a name. That is an appendage. Do not take me for a fool."_ The kid spat out, going back to his glare, but there was no fire behind either action. Dick's smile grew.

"_Well, I'll concede that point. But _Dick _is my name. It's short for _Richard."

"_Oh… My mother said that I have a brother called _Richard,_ but that he is undignified swine not worthy of my father's attention and that I shall eventually take his place because I am superior."_

"…" Dick stared at him. That was an odd idea. Sounded like a direct quote. Did the kid even understand fully what he was saying? _"Okay… What does your father say about that? And since you have not told me your name. I'm tempted to call you _Toothless."

"Toothless? _Where do you get a despicable name like that?" _Dick decided to wait. _"My name is _Damian…_" _The kid said finally, looking down at the sheets. _"I have never met my father."_ Dick opened his mouth to respond when a hand grasped his shoulder.

"What are you doing out of bed?" An angry nurse asked Dick. The nurse dragged Dick away from Damian and plunked him down on his bed. He forced Dick to lie down, while he reattached the IV and took several measurements. Dick tried to sit up, but the nurse pushed him back down again and pulled out the straps, binding him to the bed.

"Hey!" Dick said, struggling against the binds. The nurse made sure they were secure, inserted something into Dick's IV, and left.

Damian poked his head up and twisted to look at Dick, blinking hard to get rid of his dizziness. Dick demonstrated his helplessness briefly, causing Damian to give a small smirk. Dick gave him a smile back, glad to see some improvement, and then leaned back down and sighed. So much for socializing.

**Introducing Robin II and Damian Wayne!**

**Sorry this took so long, got writer's block on a part of it. The part with Dick and Dami was done (three months ago), but I wanted to include the part with Jason. It finally cleared completely this morning. **

**My beta Inkblackfingers posted a couple of fics. She's a good writer, so go check her out.**

**Review, please.**


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